“Say his name”

As far as I’m concerned, Candyman is one of the greatest creations in horror history, with Clive Barker’s fascinating tale of a vengeful spirit that wreaks havoc after being summoned by anyone brave enough to say his name being an indelible part of slasher movie history. This was made abundantly clear by the 1992 adaptation of Barker’s short story that came to be Candyman, directed by Bernard Rose, flourishing into a film truly worthy of the character’s presence, and one that has only grown to be appreciated as much more than just a violent horror film, especially as audiences start to realize how deep the premise actually manages to venture. After nearly three decades in the shadows, and a few ill-conceived attempts to bring the character back to the screen (especially the terrible sequels, which we are better off ignoring entirely), Candyman has emerged once again, this time through the collaboration of contemporary horror maestro Jordan Peele, who brings his passion for the character to the screen through writing and producing a film that places us directly into this terrifying version of the world. Helmed by the incredibly talented young director Nia DaCosta, who proves how she is an essential voice in modern cinema, Candyman is an incredible journey back into the outskirts of Cabrini Green, and a worthwhile follow-up to what is quite simply one of the gold-standard examples of the slasher genre, which have become to be endlessly ridiculed for their predictability and inability to do anything different – but as we saw in both the 1990s and now, these traditions can easily be subverted when the story is strong, the direction is assured and the general message is able to go above and beyond the sum of its parts. 

Candyman is neither a sequel nor a remake of the 1992 version, nor is it a direct adaptation of Barker’s story. Instead, the best way to describe it is as a reimagining that doesn’t disregard the original text, but rather actively embraces it. From the first moments, when a very carefully constructed piece of exposition links the first film and this one, we immediately know what Peele and DaCosta were aiming for in the creation of this film. It takes what was originally a very thrilling but straightforward horror film, and uses its events not as a crutch to support this story, but rather as a fable that inspires the events we see here. It’s difficult to categorize this film in a very precise manner, since the director isn’t interested in adhering to any known rules of the genre, and is instead more focused on crafting something original, without deviating too far from the original material. The source text functions as a guideline, a rough framework from which this film could be constructed – this means that having seen the original isn’t compulsory in order to enjoy this film, but it does give some clues that help connect the two, enriching the experience and making it all the more fascinating. Candyman is a compelling experiment, starting its existence as an abstract concept that was undeniably rough around the edges, but grows into an enthralling, and extremely terrifying, work of contemporary metafictional cinema, a sub-genre and form of artistic expression that is rapidly growing in popularity – but unlike more flaccid attempts to work within the realm of self-referential fiction, Candyman actually has the depth and world-building to justify some of these artistic liberties, which only make it even more impressive.

What has always separated slasher films from other sub-genres within horror is how predominant the concept of storytelling is in the creation of these premises. For the most part, a decent slasher film consists of some shadowy, murderous figure that any logical person would believe are contained within the stories told around a campfire, only for these unsuspecting individuals to discover that these are far from works of fiction. Candyman is perhaps the most interesting example of this in practice, since the entire premise is based around the supposed urban legend of a vengeful spirit that has to be summoned in order to do his bidding – and what are urban legends other than contemporary folklore? The original film covered this subject extremely well, so it was always going to be difficult for this reimagining to capture the same spark of brilliance without coming across as hackneyed or a simply retreading the ground that was already sufficiently covered. However, underestimating a filmmaker like Peele is always a foolish mistake, since he has shown himself to be capable of redefining even the most common tropes – and working closely with DaCosta, who seems to be entirely on-board with what Peele and their co-writer Win Rosenfeld conceived for this version of the Candyman legend, they work together to create something absolutely magnificent in its own unique way. It doesn’t always make its intentions particularly clear – this is a slow-burning film where the most significant horror is shown only in brief flashes (the direction of the attacks are absolutely incredible, proving that we only need the smallest glimpse of violence to be disturbed), and where the atmosphere is what scares us the most – and considering the nature of the story, this is the perfect approach for this material.

It wouldn’t be a contemporary horror film (especially not one involving someone like Peele) without some social commentary. The original Candyman was already brimming with interesting discussions on race relations and the social divide, so it was always going to be likely that this version would not only keep the same approach, but build onto it. In the last few decades, discussions around gentrification in urban areas has been widespread, an issue that is both prominent in social and economic areas, and in the art that comes about as a result of it. It’s a deep conversation that has sparked numerous works across every conceivable medium, so it’s unlikely that any single film, song or piece of writing will be able to capture the entirety of it – but Candyman certainly puts its own mark on the issue through the its carefully-constructed indictment on modern issues relating to race and the role it plays in the trickle-down model of social and cultural construction. The most impactful horror films tend to be those with a sense of reality to them, and while Candyman takes many liberties in terms of scaring the viewer through its very unhinged approach to violence-fueled horror, there is a depth to it that makes it all the more captivating. The social commentary here is a lot more nuanced and meaningful (most likely a result of the film being crafted by black voices, unlike the original, which could be quite clumsy in how it handled this aspect of the story, albeit not fatally so), and the terror that comes through in the collision between the supernatural and the very real horrors faced by a huge part of the population is what really propels this film forward and makes it such a masterful achievement in contemporary slasher cinema.

Even if we put aside the deep commentary that drives the film, and focus on Candyman as just a piece of horror filmmaking, DaCosta crafted quite an unforgettable entry into the genre. Not all horror films can boast to have one of the best performances of any given year, but somehow DaCosta directed two of them. The first comes on behalf of Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, who anchors the film as the rambunctious young visual artist who finds himself enraptured by the legend of Candyman, not realizing that he himself has a deep connection to it, to the point where it literally envelopes his life, and forces him to face the consequences of his own curiosity. Abdul-Mateen is quite simply one of the best young actors working today, and whether playing a supporting role in a bigger project, or leading a film all on his own (as was the case here), he proves his wealth of talents, and how he is someone to start watching if we haven’t been keeping an eye on his meteoric rise to fame already. The other performance that defines Candyman is a lot smaller, but not any less impactful – Colman Domingo, who has been a familiar face in countless projects for several years, proves how reliable he is through his role as a wise “elder” who fashions himself a historian of the Candyman legend, only for him to be revealed to have a much deeper connection that simply being a passive observer. One of the most terrifying aspects of Candyman is how none of these characters are necessarily heroic – we can’t relate to any of them on a very deep level, since they’re all very flawed, and their motivations and origins are too ambigious for us to fully invest in their stories, which give the film a very disconcerting tone, where one of the most fundamental concepts of the slasher genre (having at least one genuinely good character that acts as the audience surrogate) is dismantled, with not even the purest of them, the character played by Teyonah Paris, being entirely clear in her intentions. Even beyond its status as a masterful horror film, the film is an engrossing character study that frequently gives us unique insights into the lives of these individuals, framed through the lens of a deranged work of terror.

Candyman is a film that is motivated by its ability to push boundaries, which has been true since the very first time audiences were introduced to the titular character. Revisiting this world was always going to be an enormous challenge – while not too many people consider the original film to be an unimpeachable masterpiece (its most praise comes from a small but dedicated group of devotees, with the film being more of a cult classic than a widely-beloved masterwork), there was still a certain reputation that Peele and DaCosta needed to uphold when they undertook the daunting challenge of making another entry into this franchise. For the most part, Candyman not only matches its predecessor, it also overtakes it in many ways. It may not necessarily be a better film, but it’s easily on-par with the previous one, the two films being in dialogue with each other, creating a very distinct sense of continuity that is often missing from even the most self-referential remakes or sequels. This helps the film become one that can both stand entirely on its own, or function as a worthy follow-up to what was already a terrific, complex slasher film, which isn’t something that can be said about many attempts to reboot or remake older franchises. It’s tightly-formed, and at only 90 minutes, it never overstays its welcome, being a well-constructed horror that gives us the right blend of terror and social commentary, before provoking some deep thought and leaving us to meditate on some very impactful issues. It’s a tremendous film, and a worthy addition to a new wave of intelligent horror films that are as terrifying as they are meaningful, layered with deep commentary in between moments of unhinged terror, which only makes this an even more engrossing and unsettling experience that lives up to the legacy of its groundbreaking source.